Category Archives: Mark Conway

we drank in the remainsof ruined buildingsand we sat in a cave orwrecked houses on farms given back to the banklistening to men who’d been raisedin ways that were lostand we strained to make outthe use of their newsthey were crazy or passed outspeed notched with a crossthey drank from the flask and the mouththey came in and shook off the raininflamed and dismayedcalm and arcanethe least one seethed chanting whitman for hoursthen wept at the dregs of the firefoam formed at the edge of their lipswe drank and waited for something to dropyou and I looking and siftingfor signs written in waxwe were young we knew how to diebut not how to lasta small man who claimed he was blake ragedall night and probably he washe had god in his sightswhite crosses shone in our eyes or acid mandalicin the ruins the men talked:seraphic and brokenglowing with gnosis and rubbishwe sorted their mad sacred wordsthese dog-headed guides to the life afterand the life after that

About the Admin

My name on here is Sunny, and I sometimes like to write short stories. Although I can't write poetry for the life of me, I have a bit of an ongoing obsession with reading and collecting poems written by anyone known or unknown, with topics ranging anywhere from anything to everything. I've had this blog for a while and I have a tendency of going on long hiatuses without any warning. I apologize for this in advance.

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{Disclaimer: None of the poetry featured on here belongs to me and I do not profit from anything on this blog.}